Mansion of Silence
In a faraway place, in an unknown town, there was a mansion that seemed to be nothing but a large, empty, decrepit house. The younger occupants of the town, knew better. While the older, wiser people brushed aside the tales children used to scare each other senseless with, the younger knew for a fact that all of the stories were true. They knew for a fact that the mansion was not completely empty. Though they didn't exactly know what happened inside, they knew that there had to be something that prevented the poor, insipid, but nonetheless sad souls that entered from ever coming out again. What it was, they had no idea, but it had to be something evil. After a while, many grew tired of the rumors spread about the mansion that drove people away from their town. One person decided to call in an detective to investigate. And so the scene itself opened forth, upon a dreary, rainy morning. The drops of water pouring like a shower of sharp needles upon a black umbrella. A man dressed in a black suit walked down the sidewalk, holding said umbrella in his right hand, in his left, a black, metal suitcase. He had deep green eyes, and smooth, slicked-back, black hair, cleany shaven, a rather bored expression adorned his visage as he approached a large gate that had a woman standing before it. Her hair was golden blond, her eyes as blue as sapphires, her skin as pure as the snow. She held up an umbrella to guard herself from the onslaught of rain, as she looked the man over with a worried expression. "You must be Mr. Ardel." She stated as she took a few steps toward the man, holding out her hand, "I'm McKenna, I called you last week about the mansion." She shook hands with him, and he nodded in response. "Yes, I believe you did. Once I'm done, I expect payment. Until then, wait." He looked at the rusted, old gate and pushed it open. "Be careful in..." He brushed her off with a wave, hardly recognizing her presence, "...there." Continuing forth, he took long strides toward the mansions' door, the wind growing ever more turbulant as he got closer and closer to the archaic building. He came to the porch stairs, which creaked with every step he took, and walked to the other end, coming upon the door. The first coat of paint the door ever had was barely adorned on the wall, just tiny chips were left of a faded lavender. Closing his umbrella and placing it to rest against the wall, Ardel reached for the grimy, golden door handle; but a great breeze blew by, the door handle turned and the door swung open. Ardel allowed himself inside, grabbing his umbrella before he completely stepped in. The interior seemed to have stayed untouched for ages as if time had long since ceased its influence therein. Everything was terrifyingly motionless, not a fly, not a single living being seemed to have touched the surface of the vast lobby that he now stood in. Trembling for a sudden surge of anxiety that grew within his heart on seeing the state of the interior. Dust, of course, covered every surface but the furniture, the paintings and the walls that still stood prominently were all as if the teeth of time had stopped their destructive doings on the house from the moment its construction was finished. Pure, horrifying silence lent the place an aura of alienation and seclusion, broken only by the moaning wind that blew from various recesses scattered around the otherwise gravely lifeless residence. Ardel placed his suitcase on the floor, dust billowing out from under the collision to the floor. Pure curiosity condemned him, as he placed his umbrella on the floor next to his suitcase. The indoors was completely opposite compared to the outdoors, as if one had been recently tending to the house, but just gave up on dusting it daily. He took to the hall, forgetting about his suitcase and umbrella, beginning his trek through the labyrinth of dreariness. He sought any possible information regarding its previous inhabitants, yet found not a piece of relay to continue his avid research. Not a single trace of previous life was to be found, save for the wide array of portraits that adorned the walls. Paintings provided him with very little details, save for the feeling of uneasiness. He looked in the eyes of the glum and woeful people whose pallid faces were so cruelly depicted within the paintings' golden frames. They looked sad and filled with sorrow and they seemed to gaze at him with vivid desperation in their eyes, as if silently crying for help. The more he ventured into the mansion, the more darkness permeated, obscuring views of portraits and doors that led to other rooms. It was until he made it into a room, of which candles suddenly burned forth, lighting the room and giving him sight. A cushioned chair, a black sofa, a coffee table, and a few bookshelves lined the walls. On the coffee table was a books, of which hopefully held clues. Ardel snatched the book from its place on the coffee table, and flipped through pages, to find out it was a diary. He began to read, "I don't know how it happened, I just don't. No one understood. The doctor told us that it was bound to happen. My sweet, my darling, he just died. Right there, in his crib, only three months. Sometimes I just find... It to be so unfair. Life. The doctor told us he expected it, that there was nothing he could do, he even warned us about it right after his birth." Tear stains marred the pages, blotting out some words, making a whole paragraph illegible. Ardel shook his head, and squinted, trying to read some words on the page, he continued two paragraphs after the first one he read. "The night he died, all was silent. As was the next night. And the next. But tonight, I heard my child. He was crying, crying for me, for his father as well. He was upset. I had run down the hall to his room, to find it empty. There was nothing there. I couldn't handle it, and I screamed in pain, Edith came down the hall moments after, having finished her cleaning duties, alongside Walter. I was so relieved to be in his arms." Ardel flipped through a few more pages, coming to the very last entry, "Something is wrong, Walter suddenly vanished, it was one of the younger maids, then Edith, and now Walter. I still hear my sweet screams for me. He's crying, but I have to ignore them, if I go there, I might- Might- Might disappear too. I don't know what- What- what- what-" The diary ending there, the rest of the page having been ripped off. Ardel closed the book, trembling slightly as he stood up and left to the hall to get his suitcase, he was going to place the book in there for use later. As he walked down the hall, he began to hear whispers, very faint, very quiet whispers. He hastened his steps down the hall, going at a faster pace, until he came to a lit room. He had wound up in the living room once more. Ardel breathed in trepidation, the room growing colder with every second. He turned around to leave the room, walking down the hall once more, only to return to the living room again. This time though, all the furniture was on the ceiling, on the floor was a large, ornate mirror. Momentously it caught his attention as its frame was richly ornamented with strange and elaborate spectacles, jewels and diamonds. Desiring to inspect the scene depicted on the mirror's frame, he moved closer to examine the reflective nature within. It was then that he deeply begun to ponder the oddly pristine state of the building. Just as he contemplated the strange history of this manor, he saw in the mirror, a face. What a terribly disfigured face it was! What was depicted looked like a face of a little baby, not more than a few months old. However, its skin was terribly deformed and pale. Covered by scars and wrinkles, the nature of the face held little, if any resemblance to a human being. Its eyes were closed and its small mouth seemed to emit, drop by drop, some manner of thick substance that slowly oozed down the old-babies' chin, leaving black, vein, scar-shaped traces on the already disfigured skin. The baby opened its little eyes and, staring at Ardel spitefully, gave a horrid shriek scream that shook Ardel's body. He turned for the hall, running as fast as he could, not turning back once, dropping the book along the way down the hall. The babies shrieks echoing throughout the hall, as if following him. The whispers grew louder and louder, and suddenly, everything went silent. Ardel found himself in pitch, black darkness. Silence and nothing more. He had exhuasted himself moments before, icy-cold sweat trickling down his brow. He didn't know where he was now, just slowly, quietly walking in a black abyss. A flame brightened the hall, and Ardel made his way down there, to find himself in a massive study, books lining the shelves, a sofa by a fire, a man sat in it, cross-legged, his hair defying gravity. He wore a rather interesting suit, a scarf was around his neck, and pointed ends came off at a opening around his suit, revealing a white shirt underneath. He had green eyes, one which gleamed with a strange light of which emitted from it. "I don't suppose you plan on leaving, so soon?" The man questioned, writing a few words in a book he held in his hands, not once looking to Ardel. "W-w-who are you...?" "Ah, a good question." The man closed the book, placing it on a table next to his comfy sofa. "I could explain the countless, infinite meanings as to who I am. The true question is what am I?" Ardel was in silence, still too bothered by the baby in the mirror from earlier. "You came here. Uninvited. I don't like guests in my home, when uninvited. It's very inconsiderate." "I'll- I'll leave, right away." Ardel stuttered. "No, no no no, no. Stay, come. Enjoy a cup of tea. I insist." The man smiled, holding out a cup of tea in his hands. There was silence, the two were very far spread apart, but the man held out the tea as if Ardel were standing right in front of him, a genuine smile on his face. He shook the cup slightly, and made a slight nod with his head. Ardel shook his head, "No thanks..." His breath coming back to him, he was still petrified, but getting over the recent problems. He slowly approached the man, still wary of earlier, wondering if the man himself would become some creature in a split-second, bent on terrifying him to no end. Ardel sat at the other end of the sofa, the man taking a sip of his own tea. "Are you sure you don't want any tea?" He questioned. "Positive." Ardel replied, "Who are you, and be clear with me this time." "How dare you imply I'm hiding something." "I just need to know what's wrong with this mansion." "What makes you think you're in the mansion?" The man gave a smile, as the mirror came up to Ardel, sliding across the floor of it's own accord, halting before Ardel. It depicted an image of himself, lying on the floor of the living room, as if dead. "The minute you entered. You were mine." The man took a sip of his tea, "The paintings on the wall, didn't you enjoy my collection?" "W-what?" "To explain you no longer exist among the living. Look out the mirror more often, try to warn the others that come after you." The man took a sip of his tea once more, "I'll come back every so often, for now, I've got to tend to the house. If you ever need some tea, ask me." The man smiled, he turned about, walking toward the darkness at the end of the room, he turned around at the last moment. "By the way, my name is Hektor." Ardel stared at Hektor, Hektor stared back, his green eye glimmering. "Tea?" Category:TheSecret1070 Category:Dark Category:Short Stories Category:Finished Stories Category:Horror